


you can't choose what stays and what fades away

by myillusionsgone



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: F/M, I would tag this as major character death, So yeah, but it is a ghost au, characters die but not really??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2014-08-09
Packaged: 2018-02-12 07:57:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2101725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myillusionsgone/pseuds/myillusionsgone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This sounds a lot of a tragedy but it is not as hopeless. || Ghost AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

1st Act: Two Brothers

**_In which Gray is a goddamn idiot  
and Lyon isn’t having any of his shit._ **

* * *

Lyon Vastia was likely the only person in town who had never heard the rumours about the ghost house, the house that was a little out of town in the former rich neighbourhood. He had heard about the house, how it had not been harmed fifty-five years ago when a war had ravaged their region, leaving it far from its former glory and wealth when it had finally ended. So the old mansion was the last reminder of their town’s long forgotten Golden Days, the one jewel that had not been taken out of the chest that had once been filled with treasures.

And supposedly, the house was haunted. This was, at least, what Gray was saying and even worse, the idiot was dangling a key in front of Lyon’s eyes, irritating the older boy considerably.

“Where did you hear this ridiculous rumour?” the white-haired teen asked, swearing to himself that he would not fall for this, that he would not take the bait.

“Lockser was telling Lucy about the ghost on their last sleepover, it scared the living daylights out of Lucy,” Gray smirked as he held the key out to Lyon. It was obvious that he had some sort of plan and it was easy to guess that Lyon would not like whatever plan that was. “So I borrowed the key from daddy dearest’s office … to suggest you a dare.”

“We aren’t children anymore,” Lyon replied with an indignant huff as he closed his locker. “You can yell from all the roofs that I am too chicken to go into the ghost house, I don’t _care_.”

The black-haired boy’s smirk rivalled the Cheshire cats and it was doubtful that he was even trying. “Which is why I am not going to dare you in such a childish way,” he replied as he leaned against the now closed locker. “If you go into the house and verify once for all that there is really no ghost, I’ll do the ironing for this month and I’ll pick Ultear up from her party which means that you can go to your geek-off with your weirdo friends.”

Lyon was rather convinced that his fate hated him because otherwise, he would not have gotten stuck in what seemed to be a bad reality show. It was difficult to explain the living arrangement he was a part of to strangers and this was because half the time, Lyon did not quite get it himself. After his parents’ death, he had come to stay with his distanced aunt Ur and her daughter. Things had run smooth enough for a while until – three years ago – Ur had brought home Gray after Gray’s father – no one less than the owner of most proprietary in town – had pushed his high school friend out of the way and had been hit by a car.

Guilt-ridden, Ur had taken in Gray and they had lived as a nearly normal family until Ur had been killed in a car accident, nine months ago, twenty-seven hours before Silver had woken up from his coma as a changed man.

Ever since, Lyon and Ultear had been under the man’s guardianship and they did not quite know why but compared to his self before the accident, the man was nearly reclusive, sometimes not seen out of his office for days before briefly reappearing to attend a parents meeeting before he vanished all over again.

It was okay, however, Silver’s parenting style did not wary much from Ur’s who had often worked impossible hours at the hospital and had been gone for weeks as well.

Lyon had still preferred her, she had never done the thing where she had stared into empty space for hours and had flinched when someone dared to address her. Gray said that his father needed time to adjust to his life after the coma, Lyon thought that the man needed to see a doctor for his head and that it was a damn shame that Ur was not around to get him back on track.

Still, he looked down at the brat he had come to see as a little brother along the years they had known each other in and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why are you so keen on verifying the non-existence of a ghost, anyway?” he asked as he looked in his back for a pen.

(He kept losing them, it was getting _worrisome_.)

Gray did not consider it necessary to grace the question with an answer, he just huffed like the immature kid he was and crossed his arms. “I offered you a perfectly sound deal, Vastia, take it or leave it, he said but there was some kind of underlining tension in his voice. He wanted for Lyon to go into the supposedly haunted house and although the other teen could not possibly figure out why, he had to admit that the offer was pretty good. Ironing was the worst of all chores and getting to watch Gray curse all month over this would instantly make it worth to go into a house, take a look around and get back before his favourite TV show had even started.

(Damn, he was actually considering to do it.)

There was no way on earth that Gray had an actual interest in ghosts, the kid was a scientist to the bone and he did not believe in anything supernatural so whatever his deal was, it was likely not to have Lyon assassinated by some demon or whatever. The teenager had seen horror movies, he had seen what usually happened to people who walked into Haunted Houses or thought that walking around in an abandoned asylum in the middle of night was a great idea but those were movies and he was part of the reality.

“You know what happens if you screw up Ultear’s stuff, yes?” Lyon asked as he snatched the keys away from Gray. He would do it and once it was all over, he would get a good laugh on Gray and all would be absolutely fantastic.

“She kills me,” Gray said with a nonchalant shrug. “So you do it?”

“Looks like it. Have fun ironing, I bet Ultear will bring over a lot of laundry from work this weekend.”


	2. Chapter 2

2nd Act: The Princess Of The Hills

**_In which Lyon meets someone very special._ **

* * *

 

As he approached the house, Lyon sighed slightly. It had once been the most luxurious in town, he had read about it in history class. The family that had lived in the house on the hill back in the golden days had been infamous for their lavish parties and their appreciation for everything beautiful. A part of the old glamour had survived the family, it seemed. It was easy to imagine young women in pretty dresses, gliding through the large garden, sharing gossip and giggling behind their fans when a young gentleman talked to them.

In a way, this justified Silver’s belief that if the house would be restored to the old glory, it would make an interesting museum for their town’s history or at least an exciting place for private parties. Lyon did not entirely agree with the second idea although he was in favour of the first; there was history in their town and just because there were a few dark stains, it did not meant that it had to be hidden in the boxes beneath the mayor’s office.

He bit his lip as he opened the gate and then, he stopped for a moment. With the wind whispering in the trees, he could understand why people called the place the Ghost House. But he was not afraid because he did not believe in ghost and so he braced himself and unlocked the front door.

Inside the house, the fruits of Silver’s efforts to keep the house in a relatively good state showed. There was dust but although the house had been empty for such a long time – no one wanted to move in for reasons Lyon did not comprehend exactly, it was beautiful and the price could not be that high – there were no holes in the roof and no breeze rushed through the empty halls and chilled it down. Aside from the age and the emptiness and the rumours, this was an entirely normal house.

He moved through the hallways, his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. This was a waste of time but he would have to do it properly or Gray might find out and then, Lyon would end up stuck with the laundry and this was by far the worst chore.

It was obvious that the town’s council had cleared the house from all valuable objects after the last owner had died and no heir had ever staked his claim but a few things had been left behind – too heavy to be moved without much of an effort, too big to be stored somewhere properly – and they certainly helped to illustrate the wealth of the family that had disappeared.

He huffed as he realised that likely, it had been the town’s council that had started all the rumours about the ghost in the house to keep unauthorised people away from it – not that he could see why this would have made sense to them, most horror movies showed that teenagers were dumb enough to go into a supposedly haunted house just for the kicks of it or because they had been dared to do so.

(Or because they had been bribed with a free pass when it came to ironing.)

He left the last room he had checked when he spotted an old picture on the wall. Brushing the dust aside – and instantly regretting it, this meant that he was leaving a trace behind, how _stupid_ – he took a closer look at what (or rather who) had been depicted on the canvas. The picture was old, far older than him, and it showed a young woman who was dressed in black, in a mourning garb. Her left hand was resting on a bible while the right was pressing an orchid to her heart.

He frowned and narrowed his eyes to take a look at the words that had been written onto the frame – _Chelia Tearm, née Blendy, 1878, upon the death of her cousin_ – before he took a step back. He remembered having read those names somewhere in his history books but he did not remember in which context this had been. Well, it was not like this mattered. The woman was as dead as her cousin by now and all in all, it was time for Lyon to get out of here. His TV show would start in half an hour and he had to get home and possibly face Silver’s question why he had not come home directly after his practice – but this was just when the man felt like talking to anyone today.

Hurrying down the stairs, he felt a breeze brushing and he frowned. He had not noted any open windows and if he would be in less of a rush, he would go back and check all the rooms because this house contained a certain charm and it would be a shame of someone would ruin it and the hard work people like Silver Fullbuster had invested into it.

And then, he saw the most peculiar thing. He was halfway down the broad stairs that led into the entrance hall when he caught sight of something pink in the corner of his eye. Turning his head, he froze in mid-motion because in spite of what his rational side tried to tell him, there was an actual ghost in the house.

(Or at least someone who liked to dress rather old fashioned and had a knack for phasing herself through walls.)

She was pretty, in an unsettling way, and as she turned her head to look at him, a mixture of confusion, sadness and amusement crossed her voice before she coughed twice, clearing her throat. “It is rude to stare, you know,” she said as she brushed back at strand of her pink hair, “it’s also not polite to intrude this late.”

Lyon continued to stare at her like he had just seen a ghost which he ironically had. There was no way she was fake. The way her hair moved as she slipped out of the wall and approached him, the way the fabric of her dress shifted as she glided over to him ---- this was all far too detailed and precise to be some sort of hologram. He was standing face to face with a real ghost and he had no idea how he was supposed to handle this.

Maybe this was the problem the people in horror movies had after they had basically asked for something bad to happen; they had been previously so sure that it had been nothing but a myth that they lost any common sense that might have had at some point vanished in the very second they realised that it was very much real and not just a story.

Lyon was, for once, pretty sure that his brain stopped working for an instant as he just _stared_ at her and her pink hair that was curled in a complicated manner and the deep blue dress she was wearing and the expression of great age and wisdom.

“This is usual the moment people run,” she said, her voice playful but with some seriousness underlining it.

And this was exactly what Lyon did.

He had a TV show to attend to and he was in no mood to get killed by some ghost girl.


	3. Chapter 3

3rd Act: The Open-Eyed and the Believer  
 ** _She sometimes wished she saw not as much  
she sometimes wished she saw what she believed in._**

* * *

Sometimes, Cana Alberona hated her job.

Not the official one – volunteering in the library gave her access to files she needed and she had _plenty_ of time to stare at pretty guys – but the unofficial one. She could quit at the library at any point of time, she did not have to stay there. If she wanted to, she could hand in her letter of resignation at any time and she had been tempted quite a few times.

The other thing was something she could not escape from. She could not remember a time of her life when she had not seen more than everyone else and for the longest time, she had thought that she was going crazy. She had felt alone and she kept to herself because she was different and if she knew one thing, it was that the people did not take exactly kindly to ‘different’. It had saved her from the doubts regarding her mind when she had finally worked up the courage of speaking to someone only she could see.

The ghost of the old lady – or imprint as the oldest soul in town insisted – had not been able to explain but at least, Cana had met someone who had been able to pass on some knowledge before finally passing on. It was true what most myths said, ghosts came to be when someone died who had unfinished business and this unfinished business could range from never having gotten to apologise to far more serious things. Most imprints – _happy now, Blendy?_ – knew fully well why they were stuck, why they did not move on while others either really did not have a clue or refused to acknowledge it.

And since Cana knew about ghosts and could communicate with both sides, she had been in the business before she had been able to say no. She was on first name basis with most of the notorious ghosts in town – and this included the probably most famous one. She had groaned the moment she had heard the rumour about the Ghost House in school for the first time because the last thing she needed was a bunch of teenagers who went there and got themselves into trouble with the century old imprint of a woman who was certainly on the list of people Cana did not want to cross.

The main problem was that Sherry Blendy was old and the older a ghost was, the easier it was for the living to **_see_**. Usually, the living only started to see ghosts when they neared their own deaths but as Sherry had been dead for more than a century and had yet to move on – Cana believed her when she said that she did not know what her unfinished business was – she could be seen quite some time before someone died which was why she usually remained in her old house.

Cana had offered her help with her unfinished business but the woman had declined, not that this had really bothered the brunette. She had enough on her plate with the other ghosts – that summer break had just ended meant that there were a few new ghosts around, victims of drunk accidents – and with her other problem so she did not need a hundred-sixty-nine year old diva adding to her problems.

The main problem was that Cana Alberona had been born without the Veil. She had never been separated from the paranormal, she had always felt it breathing down her neck and while she had partly accepted it by now, she did not exactly like it, either. It was a huge problem because if she did not pay attention, she slipped up and fell into some sort of trance and saw what would happen rather than what was happening.

And seriously, having the Third Eye sounded far cooler in books than it was in real life.

She could dull it if she drunk enough but this was something she could only do when her father was out at night or when she was on a party with her friends.

Talking of her friends, she had to make sure that Gray Fullbuster did not use his father’s key to sneak into the mansion in the hills. Thankfully, she knew Gray and knew how to push his buttons to make sure that he stayed away from something. Then, he was generally not all that interested in the paranormal. There were others who were a good deal more into it like----

 

Juvia Lockser considered herself to be a believer, not that she openly advertised this.  
She believed in the superstitions.  
She avoided black cats, she would rather like to stay at home on Friday the 13th and she generally believed in the most – in the eyes of others – ridiculous things. Currently, her mind was occupied with the idea of paranormal occurrences.

This had been Lisanna’s fault because the last time, they had gotten together for a sleepover, the girl had told a ghost story about the house in the hills and ever since, Juvia could not stop thinking about it and so she had decided to use her free period to do a thorough research about the house, trying to understand why it would be haunted.

She was not alone in the department for local history, Lyon Vastia was there as well, glaring at a stack of books he had not even opened yet before he huffed “this is ridiculous”, put them away again and rushed out of the room, leaving Juvia alone with the – slightly biased – knowledge about the town she had lived in all her life, the town she sometimes felt she knew nothing about.

She gulped as she reached for a book with the promising title “Founding Families of Zinnia” and turned around to be face to face with Cana Alberona who was looking at her strangely. Frankly, Juvia did not understand the other girl.

Cana had always seemed to be the least likely person to take on a job in the school’s (and town’s) library. This had seemed to be a job made for others, for Levy McGarden or Freed Justine, perhaps for Lucy Heartfilia but before any of them had been able to volunteer, the brunette had done so and gotten the job.

“There seems to be a new interest in our town’s history, lately,” Cana said with a forced smile as she stared at the title of the book. “I saw Vastia around here, too.”

“Well, uh, we live here so I guess it’s … important to know … who _lived_ here,” Juvia stuttered, cursing herself for never having been what people would consider ‘smooth’. “Maybe he was wondering about the same thing…”

God, Cana looked terrifying for some reason Juvia could not even hope to express. The part-time-librarian was looking extremely guarded and this meant that she was hiding something. Juvia had thought that she can Cana were friends and since when did friends hide things from each other? But still, there was not doubt about this at all because there was something about the way the other girl’s smile was so very obviously a mask that had Juvia grabbing the book and _running_ away.


	4. Chapter 4

4th act: Broken Little Doll  
 ** _Or: It has been hundred years since  
she has last wished for something._**  

* * *

 

She was not being happy as she floated through the gardens of the estate she had once called home. She had spent the past years in a state of general disinterest, had remained in the house and had not seen the world because this had been too risky. She had to stay in her hometown whether she wanted it or not because whenever she tried to leave, the consequences were dire.

So she had stayed and had avoided being seen. For the first years, this had been easy. She had not been seen by anyone because no one who had gotten close to her and had been close enough to death for the Veil to be already thin enough to show what came after death.

She had made deals with the new authorities in her hometown, she had agreed to stay hidden and get her unfinished business done and over with, she had intended to uphold her side of the deal. And then, someone had walked into her home, had snooped around and she had been able to do nothing but watch silently.

Until she had realised that he could see her. This meant that his time was running out and this was saddening, he could not be much older than she had been when her life had let her.

Ever since, she had not be the same. There were only few people in this town who could see her and she avoided most of them out of habit alone. Cana Alberona – the unfortunate girl who had been cursed with eyes that saw too much – was someone Sherry was just too happy too avoid because the girl was rather strict about the ‘no messing with mortals’ rule that had been established years ago.

Never mind that Sherry had been part of the imprints who had struck the deal in the first place. She had gotten the guarantee that her house would remain untouched until she had moved on in exchange.

(It had been worth it.)

She had avoided the company of everyone, lately. It had been difficult for her to remain calm around the other ghosts – children, all of them – compared to her and the difference in power was frustrating and killed her interest in others because she did not like the idea of being able to crush someone’s presence with hers.

She huffed, dramatically, as she drifted back into her house, not even bothering to open the door. Usually, she did this. There was  reason why she had been given a telekinetic ability and she rather liked putting it to good use.

She did not get any warning aside from seeing the pen on the ground by the door and then, she smirked. People who lost belongings usually returned for them, this was what she had learned along the years.

So she waited for a few hours and she was not surprised when the door opened and he walked in, a little hesitant but not as scared as she might have expected. Perhaps she should start giving him a little more credit.

“This one belongs to you,” she said as she easily levitated the object and sent it flying at him. “You should pay better attention to your possessions; one day, you’ll be without them.”

It was weird for her as a dead person to speak to someone who was dying. Her death had been surprising, she had not expected it. It had spared her the trouble, the questioning – at least until she had come to and realised that she was stuck between two worlds. She was not sure yet what he was dying from but he was certainly putting up a brave face, she could appreciate this in a man.

“…thanks,” he muttered as he crossed his arms. “Who’re you, anyway?”

“Ah, forgive my manners,” she said as she rose to her full height. “The name is Sherry Blendy and I would much prefer it if you would not look me up.”

Because whatever he would read about her would be a lie, a cruel lie. She had been killed, she had not killed herself. This was what still made her blood boil, the one thing she would never feel indifferent about. She had been framed in the most cruel, she had been named her own murderer and this was still sickening, no matter how much time had passed since it had actually occurred.

“So … you’re dead,” he said as he nervously toyed around with the pen he had lost.

“…yes,” she said as she wrapped her arms around her legs, making herself smaller than she was. She did not like to think about it and she liked it even less when she had to talk about it. “Have been for a while, actually.”

“Let me guess, it’s bad manners to ask **_how_**.”

“It is considered very bad manners, yes,” she said as she mused whether he would have the guts to ask her nonetheless. She caught a part of her wishing for this question; the Alberona girl was right, she enjoyed being in the centre of attention a little bit too much.

“…can I still ask?” His eyebrows furrowed.

He was _adorable_ , she decided. There was some kind of childlike innocent in the way he acted, a natural lack of doubt. She could probably tell him that she had been poisoned by her own mother and he would believe it because he was just like this. And that she could lie to him was the reason why she told the truth.

“…it has been a while since I thought about this,” she admitted as she found her favourite spot on the chandelier. “Thinking about your own death is not a pleasant … things to do in your leisure. Still, you asked … I was killed.”

She did no longer feel like she was drowning whenever she told someone this. In a way, she had made her peace with this part of her current situation. She no longer flinched when she got lost in her thoughts and her mind travelled back a little too far.

What she was still not okay with was that everyone thought that she had killed herself although she had had no reason to do so. She had lived a good life, even the fiancé her parents had chosen for her had been someone she could have learned to love if she had gotten the chance – if she had not been killed out of the greed and selfishness of another man, one who was remembered as a war hero and not as the coward he had been.

“Oh,” the stranger said as he sat down on the stairs. “I am sorry to hear this … uh, my name is Lyon Vastia, it’s nice to meet you, miss.”

She had to admit, he was a step up from the always stressed Alberona girl (although Sherry could understand this, seeing too much had to be taxing after a while.

He seemed to be a genuinely kind man and to think that he was dying – and he had to be, if he had been born without the Veil, he would not have freaked out when he had first seen her – left a better taste on Sherry’s tongue. It was true, she supposed. The good always died young because if they lived, they would end up having to face the day their days were shattered. Still, she wished he would not have to die because there was so little light in their town lately and it was a real shame that someone who carried it would leave all too soon.

“Call me Sherry,” she said as she slipped off the chandelier and stopped in front of him, holding out her hand and willing herself to materialise enough so that he could take it. “It’s always good to meet people with decent manners.”

“Let me guess, I’m a step up from idiots who come here to see the _scary_ ghost,” he huffed.

She smiled – she had not done that in a while, just like she had not wished for anything for years now – as their hands met. His hand was warm compared to hers and she had not felt this in a while. “Well, you came here, too,” she said as she moved away again.

“My, uh, friend dared me to,” he admitted as he rubbed the back of his neck. “He said that if I’d go here, he would do the ironing this month.”

She smiled as she folded her hands in her lap, still unable to shake off what her mother had taught her, in another lifetime. “You could do me a favour,” she said after a moment of brief consideration, “you could keep people from your school away from here. I usually hide when someone comes … but sometimes, I am a little sidetracked and … don’t notice people.”

Like she had not noticed him at first. She had known that someone was in the house but this someone had had a key so she had assumed that it would be the man who took care of it.

“No problem, I’ll see what I can do,” he said as he got up from the stairs. “I could bring you some books, too, in case you’re bored or whatever. It can’t be the most interesting thing.”

“It is not,” she said as she turned around, “but you do not have to come back here. You got your pen, you have no reason to come back here again.”

She would get emotionally attached if he continued coming and when he died – and moved on as it was unlikely that he would leave behind any unfinished business – she would be left to her own devices again and this would be bitter and she had no space in her heart for this.

“…you don’t like it when people are around?” he asked as he raised an eyebrow at her.

“I do like people,” she admitted as she remembered the lavish parties of her human life, “but I personally believe that it is the best for the living to stay with the living.”

If only to avoid the pain.


	5. Chapter 5

5th Act: A New Face In Town

 ** _Just when things could hardly get  
any messier, someone new arrives._**  

* * *

 

She woke up on the floor of the library and she sat up, holding her head. She did not remember what had happened so she had likely been careless while she had returned the books others had borrowed for a while back to their places. She did not remember what she had seen – this would come later, as usual – but there was the telltale sensation of coldness running through her veins that announced the presence of an imprint.

And because it was her lucky day, it was no one less than the pink-haired ghost who had been the thorn in Cana’s side for the past years. Not because she misused her powers, no, but because she did simply not move on or showed any interest in working out what her unfinished business was.

But Sherry was too used to Cana’s trances and the unconsciousness that usually followed to show any concern about this so when the brunette spotted the glass of water on the table next to her, she knew that they were likely not alone which meant she could not snap at the imprint and tell her to get some aspirin.

The glass of water was the sole warning she got before some stranger appeared in the department which, finally, attracted Sherry’s attention. The imprint smirked as she closed the book she had been reading – atop of a shelf, no matter how many times Cana had told her not to – and crossed her arms as her legs dangled off the edge of the shelf.

Glaring up at the ghost, Cana mouthed a _‘don’t you dare’_ before she directed her attentions towards the stranger who was towering between two shelves. “Welcome to the library,” she said as she tried to act as cheerful and normal as possible. Bad enough that he had found her passed out; she would be damned if she would let it slip that she had passed out because her mind was constantly plagued with the future.

“Um, yes, hello,” he said as he ran a hand through his messy blond hair. “The mayors secretary said I could get files here? Files about this town before the war?”

If the imprint had been merely acting like she wanted some attention so far, she performed a 180° turn within mere moments. Crossing her arms over her chest and glaring fiercely, she shook her head. “No,” she declared.

And this was why it sucked when she was hanging out at the library. She was so protective about the story of her life and the stories about her family and friends that she sometimes nearly scared off people who asked simple questions and this meant that some people thought that the library was haunted.

Still, no matter how unpleasant the imprint could be, Cana rather picked a fight with her than to get fired for not doing her job properly so she threw Sherry an apologetic glance before she rested her palms on the table. “So, what file do you need?” she asked as she kept one eye on the ghost. It was sad, sometimes, how Sherry was likely the only person in town with less of a love life than Cana. The trances and the fainting along with the predictions had to be covered up and the price she paid was a lack of romance in her life.

(That her standards were high did not help either. That her father’s standards were even higher was the final nail to the coffin.)

“I’m kinda researching my family story so … if there are any files on the Dreyar family, I’d like to take a look at it,” he said, politely without a doubt but it seemed weird for him, it did not fit the way he carried himself.

That Sherry was huffing and muttering to herself in the background did not help matters either but Cana was good at tuning everything else out and just facing the facts and dealing with what she could deal with.

“Dreyar family, alright,” she said as she pushed a strand of her hair back into the bandana that kept her curls from falling into her eyes all the time. “I’ll see if I can find something.”

She knew that there were files but she needed a moment to breathe – and to curse the ghosts of this town because aside from Sherry, there was another one close, too – and no one could question her for taking a little longer than necessary to get the information that stranger had asked for. Sighing, she disappeared in the file closet and started her ‘search’.

“He’s handsome, you know.”

She nearly flinched but she had expected something similar from the imprint. “Blendy, please,” she hissed under her breath. “You’re dead, you are older than my grandmother – you shouldn’t say this sort of thing!”

The ghost giggled and this sound was far scarier than it should be. “I am just pointing out the obvious … plus, he’s from out of town so he hasn’t heard any rumours about you yet,” she added and Cana really wished that she would just shut up. “His hair is also messier than your life – I’d say, he’s your kind of guy.”

Letting out the breath she had been holding for a while, Cana looked at the imprint. “What do you want, _anyway_?” she asked as she pushed aside a box filled with files. “You wouldn’t be here if you wouldn’t want something from me. It’s not like we’re friends.”

“Harsh,” the older woman replied with a smirk as she closed the door behind her, not even looking at it. “But you are right, there’s something I want … what is Lyon Vastia dying from?”

Cana dropped the file she had been holding. She knew Lyon, everyone knew him. He was popular enough although he was a bit of a loner and had become even more reclusive as of late. She had assumed it had been because of the death of his foster mother but if what Sherry had said was true, it could be very well that he was dying from an illness and was reducing his social contacts, making the final cut easier.

“…so you didn’t know?” the pink-haired woman asked, her face softening slightly. “…perhaps it’ll be an accident; I just know that he can see me … and we both know what that means.”

Cana was silent for a moment as she thought about Ultear Milkovich who had just lost her mother and who would soon lose her brother, too. She thought about Gray Fullbuster who, for all the times he fought with him, genuinely cared about Lyon. This was going to be hard on them and she had no idea how she was meant to handle this.

Exhaling, she grabbed the ghost’s wrist because for her, ghosts were usually tangible. “I need you to do something for me,” she said as she bit her lip. “Go to talk with _him_ , he’d know if it was an illness, I guess. Otherwise … _she_ would know about it but she is … you know.”

Usually, she would have handled this by herself but she had work until late into the evening today and she could not just leave because she had paranormal business to tend to.

“You know I don’t like him all that much, he is so … bitter, I might catch his bitterness,” Sherry huffed, “and I think you might need a chaperone when you go back in ther—“

“Blendy, leave. Now.”

With a smirk, the imprint faded through the door.


	6. Chapter 6

6th: Talking To The Ghost

 ** _She looks young enough to be his daughter but  
she is old enough to by his great-grandmother_**  

* * *

 

He doubted that hanging around this house was good for his sanity but even so, he could not run from his responsibilities. And the owner of the house – _technically_ , it belonged to him but he was smarter than to remind her of this – was one of the more pleasant ghosts in this town, perhaps because of her upbringing, perhaps because she was old enough to have made her peace with the fact that she was dead.

So he sighed as he unlocked the door, stepping into the building. He remembered a time, about six years ago, when he had been there with one of the few people who had understood his fascination with the mansion and its history, discussing the possibility of turning it into a museum. His interest in this had died when the one who had dreamed this dream with him had been crushed by a goddamn truck.

Clearing his throat, he waited for the lady of the house to welcome him. She was there, he could hear her moving around things just above him and usually, it never took her long to notice him – perks of being the oldest ghost in town, as she would say.

“Mr Fullbuster.”

In another life, he was certain that he would have liked her more than he did in this one because in another life, she would not have been the one who had scared the hell out of him when he had first returned to work after waking up. He had just not expected someone to be there when he had walked through the house, looking for evidence that someone had broken in ---- and that she had hurled things at him because he had surprised her as well had not made things easier.

At least, she was always polite and in the rare event that she needed something from him, she announced her visits in advance and did not just appear like other ghosts sometimes did.

“Miss Blendy,” he replied as he closed the door behind him, sitting down on the chair before he raised an eyebrow. “I heard you have attracted attention among the students.”

She huffed as she twirled through the room, her dress billowing around her as she spun around. “There have always been idiots who have come here on a dare,” she said and in the split second before she turned her back on him, he could see a dash of red on her face, something that was certainly rare for her.

“Has there been a special idiot, lately?” he asked as he remembered that that he had had a pretty similar conversation with Ultear. He had no idea how well he was handling the ‘raising three teenagers’ business but since he had not been scolded by the dead woman who had done the job before him so far, he was inclined to assume that he was doing a good enough job.

“He was … polite,” she said as she looked out of the window, her posture allowing no guesses regarding what she was thinking. “No worries, he did not break in, he had a key.”

He stopped. Having to listen to an eternal teenager’s ramblings about a guy she fancied was one thing. Realising that this guy was likely someone he knew because no one had easy access to the keys – unless they lived in his house. “Oh?” he asked weakly as he raised an eyebrow. “What did he, uh, look like?”

His money was on Gray because Lyon had been under Ur’s influence for longer and was less likely to steal a key just to go into a supposedly haunted house.

“I can even tell you his name,” she said and where he had expected childlike cheerfulness, he found nothing about seriousness. It was sometimes easy to forget that she was so old that she had seen so much death and destruction because she did not look her age and most of the time, she kept up her cheery demeanour. So whenever she dropped the act and was all business, he listened and took her seriously. They were not the best of friends, she called him too bitter and he called her a procrastinator because she had yet to finish her business on earth but he trusted her a good deal more than he trusted the Alberona girl.

“Then, please,” he said as he prayed that his instinct was wrong. He could not win this gamble, someone he knew and cared for was dying and he had no idea how he was supposed to deal with this. He was not good with loss but then, what human being actually was?

“Lyon Vastia,” she said as she bit her lip. “He said his friend dared him to come here … and that the friend bribed him with doing the ironing for a whole month.”

Silver felt how his insides became frozen. He had made a few promises along his life and most of them, he had kept. He had made sure that his friend remained safe, he had taken care of her children when she had died. And now, the child she had protected was dying and he did not know how or why or when, he just knew that the ghost had been the messenger for the worst kind of message.

And he knew that she was well aware of this. She was a far cry away from her usual self, there was a redness in her eyes that indicated that she had cried and he once more remembered that while she was older than him, she had never matured past her seventeenth years. She lacked life experience and in situations like this, it showed.

He could not add to her pain by showing his own and so he just nodded, not trusting his voice for a moment. Then, he breathed deeply before he forced a wry smile. “And here I was wondering why my son was doing the ironing, lately,” he said after a moment. “Well, he will have lots of time for it, I’ll ground him.”

“You have a son?” she asked, taking the bait or playing the part, who even knew anymore.

“Yes,” he said as he mentally calculated if he had the time to stop by at the graveyard, leaving a message. “Gray.”

“I didn’t know,” she said and then, after two heartbeats, she added, “It’s not like you ever invited me over for dinner.”

He sighed as he threw up his arms. “One day,” he said as he hoped that she would have moved on before she ever could come back to this. “Anyway … I’d like to ask you for a favour.”

“I won’t tell him he is dying,” she said with an understanding nod. “It might be an accident and it would be wrong to decrease his fun in life with horrible messages.”

He nodded silently.

“You owe me pizza,” she said before she disappeared, indicating that the conversation was over for her and actually, it was for him as well.

Still, it was time to get Ur to leave her hiding place and to talk with him for a change.


	7. Chapter 7

7th Act: Eyes Wide Open

**_There had been supposed to be  
a happy ending._ **

 

 

* * *

Silver Fullbuster locked his office twice and made sure to close the shades before he sat down on his desk, frowning at the closed door. He did not have to wait for long but this was no surprise, she had never been unpunctual. He had even heard that the day of the accident, she had been running late for the first time in five years and this had added to the incident’s cruel irony. As she appeared in the doorframe, he wanted to hate her because she looked very much the same she had looked when he had last seen her.

“You wanted to see me,” she said drily as she crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, brushing an invisible thread off her white-clad shoulder.

He did not understand why she insisted on wearing her working clothes, it was not like she was limited to wearing what she had worn when she had been crushed by the truck. A part of him nearly thought that she was doing it to punish him in some way but then he remembered that she had remained in the hospital where she had worked before rather than to lurk around in the house where she had lived and where he lived now.

“What do you want from me?” she asked, her cold and distanced. He could not blame her for this, truth be told, their last encounters had been unpleasant for both of them and he had a feeling that this one would end badly as well. Ever since he had realised what she had done, he had hardly been able to stand her presence and so it was rare that he left a message on her grave, telling her that there was something that he needed to discuss something with her, usually because it concerned her children.

“Lyon can see the Girl in the Hills,” he said as he wondered whether there was a good way to break those news to her. It had to be hard on her, being unable to reach out to her children, being stuck in between this world and the next.

(He had no idea what her unfinished business was but he hoped that she would get it solved soon so that she could rest in peace.)

“She has a proper name, too,” she replied but he knew her too well not to notice that those news had her worried. “…so he is…”

He nodded as he shuffled the papers around on his desk. “And you know how this works,” he said as he looked away from her, not wanting to see her tears. “If he would not really be _you-know-what_ , he would not see her.”

They had both become a little too familiar with the paranormal in the past months. For her, it had happened because she had become a ghost upon her death and he had gotten caught up in this sort of business because he had woken from his coma with the brand new ability to see ghosts, something he could have done without.

In all honesty, he could still not believe that she had been stupid enough to do this, to die. They had known each other all their lives, they had gone to school together, he had beaten up the boys who had been mean to her and she had helped him with his homework so they could go out and play together.

They had grown up, side by side, they had been neighbours for as long as he could think back. He had filled in for her father on her wedding day – all those years and they were still not on speaking terms – and she had been his best woman on his.

They had built castles in the clouds during the long, lazy summer days, had both been in favour of making the Blendy estate into the town’s museum and after his wife’s death and her divorce, they had traded parenting tips. It had been far from ideal but it had worked out.

Until he had decided to ‘play hero’ as she called it. All he had done had been to push her out of the car’s way, not even thinking for that moment that it would leave him on her spot in turn. She had never forgiven him for this although she should have seen this coming. He had always protected her, after all, had he not?

(Her blessing and her curse.)

The guilt she had felt over his decision had driven her nearly insane. He knew that she had never visited him in the hospital – _“she was unable to look at you,”_ his son had said – and in turn, he had nearly missed her funeral on purpose before he had realised that this was not the time for him to sulk like the kid he had never been.

And then, he had learned about the deal she had struck with Death herself. His miracle cure against her life and ever since, he had been angry beyond belief because she had had no right – not that she had cared about it. Her goddamn desire to do things _right_ had cost her life and him his very best friend in the world. Everyone had known about her self-sacrificial tendencies, had known that she would rather stab out her own eyes than to let someone suffer when she could prevent it, costs be damned.

(This was why he had always been feeling bad for tricking her; she had been so genuinely _good_ that it had seemed like stealing candy from a toddler.)

But she had needed to learn what reality was like and so he had pretended not to hear it when she had cried from anger, hating herself over something he had done. It had never been her fault, he had been cruel on her and she had come to depend on him so in a way, she had not known how to deal with everything after he had started to play Sleeping Beauty. She had functioned but between the guilt and the stress, she had fallen apart.

And now, twenty years after she had used him as an alibi when she had sneaked out with her then-boyfriend, she was haunting him in a far more literal way than he could approve of.

She was the constant thought in his head, he could not help but wonder what on earth she was _doing_. Especially since she had avoided him since their fight, remaining hidden and he could hardly ask others where she was.

“…my boy …  is dying,” Ur said, tonelessly, and for a moment, Silver wondered what they had ever done to deserve such a fate. They had been normal people, always. There had never been anything special about them, they were not prepared to deal with this sort of thing. They were not prepared for the loss of family members, of beloved ones.

“I am sorry,” he said as he looked at her. He had no idea how she was feeling. True, he had lost his wife but she was losing a son and he doubted that those emotions could be compared especially since she had always been more in touch with her emotions than him.

“Are you, really?” she asked back and he wondered what on earth had happened that had changed her this much. The woman he had known before he had been gone for years would not have been this bitter.

“I know what your children mean to you,” he replied as he closed the drawer that contained his folders. “You should go talk to the Hill girl herself, she … is a good kid. You could make friends with her, you’d be less … lonely.”

She laughed, hollow and bitter, before she stepped backwards through the wall by the door. “Trust those who saw more than everyone else to remain oblivious,” she said and then, she was gone and his office was all his again.

He sighed, noting in his calendar that this was the first time in a while they had not yelled at each other during their conversation. Maybe they were getting back on civil terms.


End file.
